and the record plays
by Blue Basium
Summary: - but we don't hear a sound. They are always the same, they watch, she listens and then he closes.


The office had emptied a while beforehand, Harvey letting the needle fall into place just as Mike walked out the door, a peculiar haste in his step neither had seen in a while.

He's not entirely sure why it is he has chosen this moment, but considering all of the events of the past weeks, _who is he kidding it's been years in the making_, he figures now looks about as good as any other time. Throwing a glance at the one framed record with Gordon's name on it, he gives a minute nod and knocks back the last of the expensive scotch in his glass. He moves to stand before her and puts forward the most important deal of his life with one opened hand.

He doesn't take note of the track skipping slightly; he's too busy trying not to let his rapid breathing become visible. The great Harvey Specter, rattled. It was always going to be her. He inhales.

At least that's what she's telling herself right now. _Always going to be her._

She stands up, and places her hand into his outstretched one. They move until she is flush against his body, expensive suit pants pressed against her pencil skirt clad thighs. Her arms wind around his shoulders and she exhales.

Her head falls against his chest, his chin brushing against her hair in a strangely familiar manner. She notes his chin bumping against her skull. He nods.

"What are you-?"

"I thought you knew everything?" he counters with that same smirk he's been wearing since Hardman's ceremonious dismissal that afternoon.

"Apparently not tonight." she pulls her head back and sees the gleam in his eyes. That Specter charm exudes from every fibre of his being.

They stand toe to toe, watching one another. Always the same. They watch, she listens, and he closes.

She shakes her head again and his smile widens. He breathes out just as the music swells, she breathes him in. He pulls her closer to him, hip to hip, cheek to cheek, his fingers find the soft skin at the back of her neck beneath her hair and the small of her back is hyper sensitive to his touch.

"I was supposed to have a date tonight," she murmurs, lips right beside his ear, tempting, testing the waters of whatever _this _is.

"So was I," he replies, words lost against her hair as they move slowly in their dance on the plush carpet.

"What are the odds they happened to be seated at tables next to one another while waiting for their respective dates?" she questions quietly in the dimly lit office, city lights glowing harsh and bright against their glass walled haven.

"I'd say those odds are running parallel to my assistant getting a very large cheque at the end of the month-" she cuts him off by purposefully stepping on his toe, drawing their soothing little circle motion to an abrupt halt . He stares at her, lips parted slightly and eyebrows raised accusingly.

"Don't cheapen it by throwing your money around."

"It's never bothered you before."

"That was because we weren't…" she trails off and steps back in, attempts to resume their slow dancing in the glowing room, shoes discarded and tie loosened they make quite the pair.

"Because we weren't what exactly?" he pushes, always question after question. "Speechless? You? Donna-"

She cuts him off again, this time by pressing her lips against his. Taking control and invading his personal space, fingers mussing up his perfect hai,r lips and teeth teasing his bottom lip until he regains some sense of where he is and what she's doing. He takes her face in his hands as if she was made of the finest porcelain and kisses her with all of the reckless abandon he knows she's been waiting for all this time. Its heat and closeness and so _right_ it makes her head spin and forget his office is two walls of glass until he has her backed up by the edge of his desk. She takes a moment, presses her forehead against his and smooths her hands over his tie methodically. He bumps his nose against hers until she raises her eyes to meet his. His smile is so Harvey she simultaneously wants to slap him and resume the kissing. She bites her bottom lip and closes her eyes. Her name escapes his lips in a breathy sigh and this time when she opens her eyes, he's searching her face for a sign. Her crooked smile is all the reassurance he needs as he cups her cheek tenderly and presses a warm kiss to her temple. He steps back and sweeps her up against his body and leads her in a timeless movement that, once she spins them and takes the lead from him, smiling broadly all the while, is so effortlessly them , neither have noticed the music that was once gently playing in the background had ended some time ago.

They breathe in and out time and time again until they exist in a song and a dance that everyone hears and sees but them.


End file.
